


Tea and a Biscuit

by mondays_child



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Wholock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondays_child/pseuds/mondays_child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly just wants five minutes of peace to drink her tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and a Biscuit

**Author's Note:**

> Written on [my tumblr](http://somethingwittythiswaycomes.tumblr.com/post/17053188480/tea-and-a-biscuit) for [sgt-snubkin](http://sgt-snubkin.tumblr.com/) and prompted by a photoset saying Molly would be a great companion.

Molly paid for her tea and biscuit and turned towards the tables, looking around for an empty one where she wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. No such luck. Every table was full, even her favourite one, over by the window. There was a skinny man in a brown coat sitting there. Molly sighed. All she wanted was a break from the aftermath of that horrible fire. Just five minutes where she didn’t have to think of the tragedy of it all. Where she didn’t have to think about having no one in her own life that would miss her as much as the people who had been filing through her office all day missed their loved ones.  
  
Molly took a deep breath, forcefully removing her thoughts from that train by thinking about her cat. Toby was so soft and warm; thinking of him always cheered her up. Shaking her head and steeling her nerve, she stepped towards her favourite table. The skinny man looked up at her and she smiled tremulously. “Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”  
  
“No, no, not at all. Have a seat.”  
  
“Thanks.” Molly put down her cup and sat. She broke off a bit of her chocolate chip cookie and looked at the man surreptitiously as she chewed. He looked like he would be tall when he stood. His hair was long, brown, and wild, sticking up from his head like he had seen something particularly shocking. He had beautiful brown eyes, and an interesting face. His brown suit was finely pinstriped, and both it and his coat looked well made. Molly blushed as she realized she had been staring at him almost blatantly for a couple minutes. She sipped her tea and winced when it scalded her tongue.  
  
“Are you a doctor?” the man asked. “I had a friend who was a doctor once.”  
  
“Nooo, I’m a medical examiner. I work in the morgue.” Molly said. She steeled herself for the inevitable response. She thought this man would be the ‘awkward questions about how can you touch dead bodies’ rather than the ‘grimace, make excuses, and leave immediately’ type.  
  
“Ahh, yes. That explains it!” The man seemed cheered by her words. A grin spread across his face.  
  
“Wh-what? Explains what?” Molly stammered.  
  
“When I saw you, I thought: That woman has a big heart. One of the biggest, kindest hearts I’ve ever seen. Such a big heart, but she looks so sad. I couldn’t think of why.”  
  
Molly gaped at him.  
  
“Of course anyone who cared as much about other people as you do would look sad when she worked in a morgue, but only someone who cared so much would work in a morgue even when it made her sad.”  
  
Molly was suddenly, forcefully, reminded of Sherlock. This man read people like Sherlock did. But, he was different, as well. She furrowed her brows as she tried to put her finger on it. He seemed more… human? No, that wasn’t it. Less manic? Not quite. More… affected? Like he tried to hold the world away from him, but it wasn’t working. His eyes. They were old and sad.  
  
“Who are you?” Molly asked.  
  
“I’m the Doctor,” the stranger said.  
  
“No, you’re not a doctor. I know all the doctors that work here. You’re not one of them, and you don’t act like any of them either.”  
  
“Not A doctor. THE Doctor. It’s my name. I’m the Doctor, and your name’s Molly Hooper. Nice to meet you!” He grinned that whole-face grin at her again, nodding to her badge when she looked startled.  
  
“No one’s name is the Doctor. That’s ridiculous.” Molly tried to sound strict. It never worked.  
  
“Mine is. I picked it out myself. Works just fine. And what’s wrong with ridiculous? Ridiculous is fun!”  
  
Molly smiled a little. This man may be mad, but he was entertaining. “So why are you here, THE Doctor?”  
  
“Just ‘Doctor’ is fine, since we’re friends and all,” he winked at her. “I’m here because I _love_ London. Best city in the universe, London is. I would know, too. Been to most of ‘em. London’s the best one!”  
  
“You’ve been to-” Molly stopped herself. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know, yet. “That’s not what I meant. Not why you’re in London, why you’re _here_. In this hospital. In the canteen.”  
  
“Oh. Weeeell.” The man sat back and looked into the distance over her head. “Here to see a friend.”  
  
“Your friend who is a doctor?”  
  
“No. Another friend. Just making sure he keeps a promise to me.”  
  
“A promise?” Molly was confused. This man talked a lot for someone who didn’t say much. As opposed to Sherlock, she thought, who said a lot, sometimes without talking at all.  
  
“Yes. He promised me he would try not to die.” The man, the Doctor, looked sad now, a little spark in his eyes had faded. Before she knew what she was doing, Molly reached out and touched his hand. He looked back to her eyes. “There’s your big heart, Molly. You don’t even know me and you care.”  
  
“But we’re friends. You said so yourself.” Molly smiled a little. Later, she was sure, she would be shocked at her forwardness; she was never usually so comfortable around humans. Cats were no problem, most dogs too, but human beings scared her. “How is he? Your friend?”  
  
“I don’t know. Couldn’t bring myself to look.” The Doctor turned his hand up under hers, and squeezed her fingers. A strange look came over him, and he looked down at their clasped hands, squeezing her again. When he looked back into Molly’s eyes, the sparkle had retuned.  
  
“Molly Hooper, do you like to run?”


End file.
